Infectious Laughter
by CJzilla
Summary: Sequal to "Ain't It Funny". Black Mask infects Joker with a slow-activating lethal contagion in an attempt to get the Batman off of his back. The Batman must find a Joker and a cure before the harlequin perishes and contaminates all of Gotham.
1. EMails and Ivy

Hello Saints and Sinners! CJzilla here with a sequal to one of my favorite stories! I recommend writing about insane people, especially everyone's favorite psychosis poster child: Joker. So, with an open doorway into my mind, I say onto you, the impressionable reader... "Enjoy".

_Synopsis: Based on "The Batman" TV series and sequal to "Ain't It Funny". Little over a month after Joker substituted for his critically injured Bat Buddy, the Batman is back on his feet and closing in on Black Mask. In an attempt to distract the Caped Crusader, Black Mask arranges for a slow-activating lethal contagion to be administered to Joker. The Batman must find a Joker and a cure before the harlequin perishes and contaminates all of Gotham._

As I rampage all over this city, alls CJzilla has to roar is this...: Love... Hate... Review. I don't care...

AN: THIS IS NOT A YAOI OR SLASH FIC!!!

**Disclaimer: CJzilla owns nothing of "The Batman" and any quote below...**

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_" Laughter -- An interior convulsion, producing a distortion of the features and accompanied by inarticulate noises. It is infectious and, though intermittent, incurable."_

_**Ambrose Bierce** _  
_1842-1914, American Author, Editor, Journalist, ''The Devil's Dictionary''_

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**_Infectious Laughter_**

Chapter 1

_E-mails and Ivy_

For a place of books and muse, the Gotham Municipal Library was anything but quiet. Over the laughing children enjoying an open reading, the hiss of air conditioners, the tapping of patrons using the library's free internet access and bookworms checking out their latest literature finds, there was hardly a silent spot in the building.

The library was crowded and with so many people accessing the internet through its massive modem, it was controlled chaos. But it was a perfect untraceable platform for someone not wanting to be found.

In the hush of a dark vehicle parked in the library's alleyway, a man sat in the back seat, his laptop connected to the building's modem. Seated in imported Italian leather seats and darkly tinted windows, he kept his fingers lingering above the computer keys. He looked as if he was just yet another internet addict getting his fix away from the crowds, but the light of his computer screen shown off a metallic skull-like mask adorning his face. His red eyes were growing increasingly narrowed as his fingers moved faster over the keyboard. An e-mail of the highest importance commanded his attention.

_Shipment has been sent. NoiGon toxin scheduled to arrive at Arkham Asylum. Set medical exams for seven sharp._

With two taps of his mouse pad, the man sent his message to a contact merely across Gotham City. Within seconds a computer pinged, nearly thirty miles of city streets passed within the blink of an eye. Youthful brown eyes came to the message alert. Glancing over his shoulder, a young man swallowed his nervousness and grasped the computer's mouse. Clicking on the incoming message, he read it and within six seconds had set to work. Opening another file and typing in a password, the young man accessed the asylum's medical arrangement. With a few choice clicks and the schedule was hacked. Exams were set for seven tonight. The young Arkham Asylum orderly typed a reply to his boss.

_Acknowledged. Medical exams are rescheduled. Seven sharp. I will be assisting medical personnel. Am I to administer toxin?_

"Message received". Back at the library, the man laced his fingers together as he saw the new e-mail flash across his screen. You could nearly see a smile stretch on the man's mask.

_Affirmative. As previously planned, inject inmate 230D1; infect Joker. Maintain silence until I contact you next. Logging out._

Roman Sionis grinned. The powerful crime boss shut his computer and set it onto the car seat beside him. Joker, a mockery to all humanity, was a perfect distraction. As long as the supercriminal was locked up in Arkham, even though the crime boss would never admit it, the harlequin was a threat to his organization. What made this scenario a little disgusting was that it wasn't the Joker's rivalry making the problems for Black Mask. Joker lived for making people laugh, even if it killed them. True psychosis. But the Clown Prince of Crime was recently captured. That meant… the true thorn in crime's side, the Batman, now had free time.

The nutty clown always kept the Batman occupied while Black Mask carried out his nefarious dealings behind the bat's back. But now that Joker was in one place, the Batman's fist was tightening over Black Mask's throat. The crime boss needed a distraction and a scapegoat. And Joker was perfect.

Soon… the crazed harlequin would lead the Batman on a wild goose chase, loosening the noose around Black Mask's neck. By the time they figure out what was happening Joker would have slowly perished with a contagious lethal toxin leisurely turning his organs into mush and the Batman's Gotham would cease to exist.

With hundreds of witnesses but no one the wiser, the crime boss chuckled.

"Get me out of here." Black Mask growled at his driver. The chauffer nodded and shifted the expensive black car into drive. In just a few hours Joker's demise would be put into motion and Gotham would never be the same.

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"Keep you elbows in!" Batgirl heard her friend and fellow crime-fighter Robin scold. The teenage heroine just frowned as she did a back-flip.

A vine the size of a four-door car slammed into the ground where she was once standing. Gracefully landing, the masked girl flicked a pellet of instant freezing foam onto the sizable plant. When the icy weapon met the sensitive plant-life, it immediately froze and killed the flora.

"And _you_ keep your lips _buttoned_!" Batgirl fired back, spinning on her heeled boot. She caught the younger teen boy dramatically somersaulting over a cactus that had sprouted legs.

Poison Ivy's latest minion creation; a prickly mobile cactus that the budding botanical chemist had bred; no pun intended. The walking cactus immediately went on the most sinister lackeys list that Batgirl had encountered. One wrong move and you'd be so full of needles, pin-cushions would blush with envy. But Robin was taking the nearly carnivorous cactus to the cleaners. With a powerful slash of his baton, the Boy Wonder had cut the walking plant in half. With the defeated cactus dismembered and disorientated, Robin set his rod on his shoulder and smirked at his female friend and partner.

"Elbows in and figure eights." The boy quipped, keeping his elbows to his sides and tracing an eight pattern into the air with his finger. Batgirl, also called Barbara Gordon, rolled her brown eyes from under her cowl.

"Clockwise or counter-clockwise?" She returned, matching his humor as she made her way to him through hip-high bushes. "Because if I do counter-clockwise figure eights, I kick more bad guy booty."

The young teen hero Robin, also known as Dick Greyson, grinned as he watched Barbara near.

"Clockwise figure eights are the best way to go." He replied, again tracing the air with his finger. Barbara sighed as she moved past him.

"Well you would know, Mr. Smug." Barbara shook her head. Dick's smirk fell as he trotted up to her.

"What's with you, B-Girl? You aren't yourself." The boy took a step in front of her. The two collided.

Dick felt Barbara's arms on his shoulders as she gave another irritated and tired sigh into his hair.

"I've got math finals, a father who is getting too nosy about what I do all day and a gymnastics class I signed up for." She mumbled. "All that on top of my alter ego alias obligations AND a bossy friend obsessed with figure-eights. So forgive me if I seem a little serious."

The boy felt a frown curl his lips downward.

"More gymnastics?" Dick stepped away from the girl, taking her arms off of his shoulders. "What's up with that? It's not like you're not practicing enough here."

He gestured to the Gotham City Botanical Gardens that were covered by a large living plant dome. Poison Ivy was creative yet she enjoyed her plants; the gardens being her unofficial haunt. Thick, woody, vines writhed along the supple ground, nearing the two crime-fighters like stalking snakes. But Batgirl still sighed.

"It's too much talk for being in the middle of a plant blitzkrieg." She waved her hand, dismissing the subject. Robin narrowed his green eyes from behind his eye mask.

"What? No more pre-battle bant-_eep_!" The boy's sentence was cut off by a girly squeak. A super-vine, one with cactus needles had slapped Dick in the back of his thigh. "Ee_OW_!

Several profanities followed as the Boy Wonder danced around, trying to get rid the pain of those needles invading his bottom. Over his cursing, Robin did hear Batgirl laugh at him.

"Watch it. Vines can be wily ones!" She snickered. Dick spun, and about to give her a piece of his mind.

But suddenly, his face went numb and then he couldn't feel his arms. His brain was fine but he couldn't form speech or anymore movement. Falling flat on his face, he heard Barbara gasp at him.

"Robin!" She rushed to his side and he felt her hand on him. Suddenly flipped on his back, the boy could see the concern in his friend's face.

He had a clear view of the air above their heads and the dangers looming about in it. Dick tried to warn Barbara about the vines with the poisonous needles but his words came out as a mushy mumble.

"You like it?" A husky if a little unstable voice cut through the rustling leaves and moaning vines. Batgirl jumped upwards, her breath hitched in her throat.

It was Pamela Isely or… what she'd become. The half-plant/half-teenage girl rode into the scene on a bed of roses. Poison Ivy looked like a normal, pretty teen, but she had the bite of a snake and a skill for plant-life. So whatever she cooked up, it was always bad news, especially for Gotham's crime-fighting trio.

"What have you done to him, Ivy?!" Barbara barked, a flurry of concerns running through her mind. Who knows what Robin was now infected with?!

The teenage villain chuckled.

"Your boyfriend's been infected with a plant-based muscle relaxant." Ivy responded, a mocking grin dancing on her green lips. "It's nothing really."

Barbara stiffened.

"OK… One, Robin's NOT my boyfriend and two…" He pointed down to the boy. "THAT doesn't look like nothing."

Ivy gave a laugh.

"All right… it is _something_." The villainess relented, shrugging easily. "It's a _powerful_ muscle relaxant, Batgirl. Meaning your _boyfriend_ has mere minuets to live."

The red-headed crime-fighter gasped.

"So you have two choices… stay here and stop me, which spells positive doom for Robin… OR scoop him up and leave by the way you came in." Ivy added. "But know that he doesn't have long to breathe."

Barbara looked down at her friend and saw the blank, relaxed look on his face. Stupid! Stupid! _STUPID_ plants! Whisking Robin into the air and over her shoulder, Batgirl made a b-line for the exit.

"I still hate broccoli!" She spat over her shoulder at Poison Ivy. The half-plant/half-human girl laughed.

"And broccoli hates you, my dear." Raising a hand, the plant-girl summoned more cactus lackeys. Pointing a finger after the fleeing Batgirl, she uttered two words. "Finish them."

The mobile cactus darted after the two crime-fighters. Poison Ivy smiled. This battle would be hers yet.

Barbara raced toward the exit, trouncing and bouncing the numb Robin on her shoulder. She thanked the adrenaline rushing through her body or the teenage boy would be pretty heavy. The girl could hear Dick moan once in a while.

"Robin, I swear if you're drooling on my cape, I'm going to hurt you!" She threatened, hiding the fact that she just wanted to hear him "talk" to her. That way, she knew that he was still alive. "Where's Batman?! He's never around when we get into scrapes like this!"

In typical Batman style, the masked man gave she and Dick only sketchy answers when he left them off at the gardens. He said he had a theory and that Batgirl and Robin should keep Poison Ivy busy in the meantime. Nodding, Barbara gave into her mentor's orders like she always did. He was Batman! He'd never steer them wrong! And now she was running through hip-high grass, one of her best friends flung over her shoulder.

Dick garbled something, his jaw muscles still deadened. Suddenly they both heard the signature sound of a Bat-a-rang whiz through the air. It flew dangerously close to Barbara's head before hitting something pulpy. Immediately it blew the cactus minions that were nearly on them. The explosion knocked Batgirl down and she and Robin landed in a tangled heap. Barbara peeled herself out of the cushy grass and spat out a mouthful of dirt.

"Sheesh!" She sat on her knees and threw her arms to the sky. "We could have used your help five minuets ago!

Barbara was scolding her mentor and partner… the Batman. With little more that a whisper of fabric, she knew the lithe man was standing behind her. Looking up at the stoic and steely masked man, the girl pouted.

"And where have you been?" Barbara asked. The masked crime-fighter merely narrowed his slitted eyes at his female partner.

"What's wrong with Robin?" His dark voice mimicked the shadows of night around them. Batgirl gasped.

"Robin!" She scrambled over to the felled boy's side. "Ivy hit him with a powerful muscle relaxant!"

Flipping the boy over to his back, she hoped to ease his breathing. The Batman had kneeled with the girl. Pressing a clawed finger to his utility belt, the crime-fighter retrieved a small vial inside a syringe. With no warning, the Batman stuck the needle into Robin's neck. The boy moaned as his eyebrows twitched slightly. It must have hurt; regardless of muscle relaxant.

"Take him back to the Batmobile and keep an eye on him. He should bounce back within a couple minuets." The Batman then turned and marched deeper into Poison Ivy's lair.

"Wait! You-! I-! Robin-…!" Barbara stammered. "You can't go face Ivy alone! You're barely able to drive the Bat-Mobile without moaning!"

That made Bruce Wayne's eyes narrow from under his cowl. Again she brought up his injuries! The man fully understood his aches and pains were not healed yet.

"You watch Robin, Batgirl." The Dark Knight repeated, his tone hitting a dangerous octave. "I'll be fine."

Barbara scoffed.

"You're gonna hurt yourself again!" She argued. "You stay with Robin and I'll go after Ivy."

Bruce turned to his sidekick and friend.

"Do as I told you. I have this handled." He growled. And without room for her objection, the man darted off into the shadows.

The teen girl frowned as she looked back down at Robin.

"He's going to re-injure himself and be in a body cast for the next six months." She complained, sitting and letting Robin's head on her lap. "His head is about as thick as they come."

Dick blinked as the corner of his mouth twitched with a grin. Bruce's head WAS cracked open just over a month ago. But not even paralyzing pain could keep that man from defending the defenseless. There was one thing the Batman's sidekicks were grateful for… Pretty much all of the high-profile and highly dangerous criminals were still locked up. And who did they have to thank for that? None other than the Joker himself.

So let Bruce face Poison Ivy. He had the advantage over quick-tempered schemer. Venturing deeper into the jungle that was once the city park, the Dark Knight aimed to meet up with a poisonous plant-hybrid.

Exactly in the middle of the botanical gardens, the Batman saw Poison Ivy lying on a bed of roses, looking up at the plant membrane that had made a dome over the area. He'd neared without a sound but with Ivy's deep connection with her plants, she could feel his feet pressed into the grass. The red-headed, green-skinned teenager flipped to her stomach and locked eyes with the crime-fighter.

"Welcome Batman!" She was obviously forcing a smile. "Glad you could make it."

She knew where he'd been. Instead of fighting Ivy here with his sidekicks, Bruce took a detour to the docks. That's where he caught a few of the green villainess' plant soldiers looting containers fresh off a boat from the east.

"Nice diversion, Pamela." The Batman quipped. "You nearly fooled me."

The girl's teeth clenched as her anger came to her nose.

"Those containers had rare Mai Ghon orchids!" She fumed. "And they were in bloom! With their potent pollen, I could have engineered enough mind-controlling spores to infect the city. And YOU _ruined_ it!"

"Exactly why your plant goons couldn't get their leafy hands on them." The crime-fighter returned. "Now you have nothing to fight for. Give yourself up without a fight, Pamela."

"NEVER!" The girl screamed. The ground below her exploded as thick woody vines came to their mistress's call.

They immediately darted toward the masked crime-fighter. Bruce jumped to the side and avoided them expertly. Charging Ivy, he readied a special sonic device. It was a prototype; this being its maiden voyage. Throwing the disc, Frisbee style, it landed at Pamela's feet. It then began to vibrate. Instantly Ivy's hold on her plants gave. The tree she was standing on toppled under her and all plant-life around wilted. Ivy tumbled to the ground, horrified that she could no longer control her babies.

"What have you done?!" She gave a pathetic warble as the Batman stood over her.

"Sonics. Disrupts the signal in your brain that gives you control over plants." He pulled an aerosol can from his utility belt. Ivy was so distraught that she didn't look away as the Dark Knight filled her face with knock-out gas, laced with her very own plant spores.

The girl's eyes grew heavy and she collapsed right there. Tucking his aerosol can away, Bruce moved over to the sonic device. He flicked off the mechanism and turned back to the villainess.

"But this isn't without it's risks." He said out loud. True, the device inhibited Ivy's conscious signal to her plants… but it might scramble her mind in the process.

It had promise… but it was too much of a liability. Bruce would not have one of his devices cause harm.

Inside a carefully closed parameter police waited just beyond the rapidly deteriorating plant dome as the Batman emerged with a limp Poison Ivy in his arms. Paramedics from Arkham Asylum took Ivy from her enemy's arms. The Batman readily handed over the young villainess and watched her placed on a gurney, strapped down and loaded into a special armored truck, unique for handling some of Gotham's most powerful mental cases. Bruce Wayne was thankful that Ivy went down so easily. The man would never admit that his relatively fresh injuries were not healing as fast as they should. Tired, over-worked and in a serious amount of aches, Mr. Bruce Wayne needed to get back home to curl up in bed with some pain killers.

The Caped Crusader's charade was tough to keep up; his two sidekicks constantly vented their concerns about his health. It wasn't just his partners in crime, it was also… the police. Two of the Batman's closest allies would not stop voicing their worry. Tonight being no different. Just as the doors shut over the unconscious Poison Ivy, a hand was placed on Bruce's shoulder. The relatively soft tactile touch sent a stab of pain through the man's arm. Immediately spinning, the costumed crime-fighter came face to face with Police Commissioner Ellen Yin; a soft ironic smile on her red lips.

"Police Chief Bennett has a handle on the Mai Ghon orchids, Batman." The oriental beauty voiced, letting her hands in her pants pockets. "He assures me that they were destroyed."

The crime-fighter looked at the woman. Hoping to flee the scene and get back home, he made his way back toward the shadows.

"Thank you Batman. You saved the city… _again_." By her tone, Bruce sensed that she wanted something. The crime-fighter stopped and glanced over his shoulder.

"Is that all?" He questioned in a business-like tone. Ellen sighed loudly and walked toward him.

"It's been only a month and three weeks since you were hurt, Batman." She told him, arms folded across her chest. Then the woman stopped and let it soak into the masked crime-fighter.

Bruce returned his eyes to the shadows and let himself frown.

"Crime never stops… and neither do I." He gruffly responded. Ellen inhaled and let out another long sigh.

"You and I both know that crime will never stop… but it has slowed." The Police Commissioner voiced. "Take advantage of the relative lull and take a break, Batman."

""Relative" is not a term that lets me rest, Commissioner." The crime-fighter frowned. The woman's big eyes narrowed considerably.

"Over half of the city's villains are still locked up." She told him. "When Joker-…"

Ellen stopped, her lips tightening. Bruce shot his eyes back to the Police Commissioner. The look on his face dared her to finish that sentence.

"Yes, I am bringing up Joker." Ellen set her hands on her hips, irritated by the angry look on the Batman's face. "When Joker took over for you over a month ago, he made sure that when you did get back on your feet your work didn't pile up. Do yourself a favor and take a break."

Joker. The crazed Crime Clown dressed as the Laughing Bat and kept up Gotham while his "best friend" healed after a fight with Penguin and Mr. Freeze. Bruce never asked the Joker to fill in for him; the insane harlequin did that on his own. Nearly every super criminal was locked away, thanks to Joker's phase of heroic psychosis. The Batman was grateful for less work but there was hardly an excuse for a break.

The Batman narrowed his eyes at Ellen Yin and turned on his heel. Disappearing into the shadows without another word, he left the Police Commissioner shaking her head.

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Review! LONG LIVE ROCK!!!


	2. Bedlam In Arkham

Hey Saints & Sinners! CJzilla here with another chapter! In this update, Joker makes his debut! But all is not well in Gotham's favorite loony bin... Enjoy!

As I rampage all over this city, alls CJzilla Has to roar is this: R&R! Love... Hate... Review...

**AN: I own nothing of Mr. Nikas or "The Batman"!**

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_"No mater what I do my dentist always hurts my fillings."_

_**Alberto Nikas  
**Computer Scientist_

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Chapter 2

_Bedlam In Arkham_

A loud buzz rang through Arkham Asylum. It was the dinner bell. Doors normally locked were opened and offenders dressed in matching white uniforms steadily entered the cafeteria. Officers were positioned at every corner, every doorway and every ten feet or so. Armed with knockout gas and nightsticks, the guards silently watched all inmates with stern eyes as the first grabbed his trey. Basil Karlo gripped his bright red food trey and moved it along the metal grate. As green beans, collard greens and some disgusting boiled boneless chicken was shoved onto plates and onto his trey, the amateur actor turned supervillain frowned. He hated Arkham.

The huge brick building was a pain. Its walls seemed to be endless yet with limit. You could walk the entire length of the building in a day but never see all of its halls. At least he could walk the halls now. Four weeks ago, when he was captured and put back into Arkham, he was relegated to a single cell. No privacy, no visitors, no mail, no nothin'. Yet Basil managed to keep it together long enough to get some perks; dinner in the mess hall being one of them.

Sitting at a random table, Basil eyed his food with disgust. Four weeks down, forty years to go. Again he had the prospect of living out his years in an asylum, seen as nutcase freak that never had a chance at his acting dream. From what everyone told him, he had no shot at being an actor… even before he went supervillain. Basil never believed it but now that he was known as the supercriminal _Clayface_, he'd have absolutely _no_ luck attaining his dream.

Then another inmate plopped down in the seat across from him. Basil looked up to see Oswald Cobblepot, also known as the bird-based supervillain _Penguin_. The chubby and rude man sat in a huff, his belly shaking the table. Basil gave a quiet sigh as he frowned. Watching "Ozzy" eat was a sure-fire way to get rid of his appetite.

"Hey Mudface." The homely redhead squawked. Basil's frown deepened as Oswald twisted a finger in his ear.

Suddenly another inmate came to the table, or rather… flipped onto the table. Master thief and triple-jointed contortionist Peter Merkel somersaulted onto the table and giggled gleefully. Known as _Ragdoll_, the skinny sandy-haired man dropped gracefully into the seat next to Basil. He looped a friendly arm around the amateur actor's shoulders.

"Basil! Oswald! Fancy meeting you here!" Peter beamed. At the livid scowl on Basil's face, the master thief laughed.

Hopping over the table, he sat next to Ozzy and slid his tray in front of him.

"Sheesh, Mudface." The ex-billionaire Oswald Cobblepot spoke through the food in his mouth. "You look like you swallowed something."

Basil couldn't help but look at the portly man's jagged teeth and the food rolling around in his open mouth.

"It's _Clay_face, Cobblepot." He corrected on a hiss. "And how can I swallow _anything_ with you sitting across from me?"

A clueless look surfaced on Ozzy's face as he continued to chew loudly.

"Now, now; let's not be tying each other in knots." Merkel spoke up, coiling his body in a sickening twist. "After all… we'll be seeing a lot of each other for the next forty years or so."

Basil shut his eyes in an attempt to block out the image of Merkel eating with his head tilted to an extreme angle. This was going to be a long sentence.

Dropping his eyes to his tray of food, the man's frown never lightened. Angrily grasping his plastic spork, Basil really wanted to get his moldable hands over the throat of the man who put him back in this hellhole. And as if on cue, the hinges of a worn door shrieked open. All eyes sprang up and passed through the chain-link barrier between them and a separate eating area. Four large guards stepped into the adjacent area and gave every other inmate an icy glare. As soon as they saw it was safe, they disappeared through the door and several other footfalls were heard. Peter Merkel giggled.

"Well, well. _Look_ who's coming to dinner." The contortionist quipped and though there was a smile on his face, his eyes were sharp with anger. Oswald growled and held his green eyes to the doorway.

Then four guards and two orderlies lead in one of Arkham's most dangerous and hated offenders.

"_Joker_…" Basil hissed, his grip becoming harder on his plastic eating utensil. The deranged harlequin's appearance was infamous.

A lithe man with long green hair, wearing a straight jacket and a wicked smile, this was the bizarre appearance of a maniacal harlequin whose unnerving instinct for the absurd earned him a reputation as the most dangerous criminal in the annals of crime. Joker slowly limped his way across the tiny corridor, his entourage of mental health workers close to his sides. Basil, Merkel, Oswald and most of the other supervillains in the cafeteria couldn't help but scowl. Within the last month, it was Joker who landed most of them behind bars.

"Oooo!" Merkel spoke, thickly sarcastic. "And he gets a _private_ meal."

Ozzy hissed.

"Well if he ate with us, there'd be Black-Eyed _Joker_ on the menu." The portly man grunted under his breath. "Looks like they ain't takin' any chances with Jokester."

Basil wished that Joker would be in the same room with him. That way, he could smear that pale face all over the walls.

Then the harlequin lifted his red eyes from the floor in front of him and panned quickly across the neighboring mess hall. His toothy smile on his permanently white-painted face seemed to grow larger when he saw all of the stares and glares. Joker chuckled as his glance finished. The madman knew he was hated and their hatred was something for him to laugh at.

Basil Karlo felt rage boil inside of him. Taking a handful of the collard greens on his tray, the amateur actor hurled it as hard as he could at the chain link divider. Due to his poor aim, the food struck one of the guards but not before slightly splattering on Joker's white straight jacket. Gasps rang out as guards rushed over to subdue Karlo.

"JOKER!" Basil snarled as he picked up his tray and threw it as well. "YOU'LL _PAY_ FOR LOCKING ME UP!"

Joker watched as Basil Karlo was jumped by three officers and wrestled to the floor. The harlequin managed a short pause in his tender gate as the man was hauled back to his feet, held in a pressure hold by the guards. Basil's face and front was covered with food while Ragdoll and Penguin looked stunned. Now _that_ was funny enough to merit one of Joker's signature laughs. The madman threw his head back and burst into ecstatic laughter.

Basil heard every second of Joker's guffaw as he was pushed toward the exit of the cafeteria. Catching one last glimpse of Joker's twisted face stretched in laughter, the redhead snarled loudly. Someday soon, he'd make sure that Joker would never smile again.

Just as soon as Basil was carted out and doubtlessly back into solitary confinement, the mess hall went back to normal. Trays clanked together and the depressed feet of inmates shuffled along the hard floor. Joker couldn't keep his giggles down. Good ol' Karlo! _Always_ good for a laugh!

"Knock it off, Joker." One of the guards warned. Joker looked up at the man. "Don't antagonize them. It won't take much to rush the gate and tear you apart."

The harlequin settled his arms within his straight jacket, his smile never deviating.

"It's not my fault that they can't take a joke." Joker gave his protector a dark smile. The guard shook his head.

As the orderlies set him down at his separate table, they unbuckled the man from his straight jacket.

"I want a Lemon de Sol with crème fresh and..." Joker took a finger-full of the collard greens on his pants and stuck it in his mouth. "Mmm! And some of the stuff Karlo threw at me. And don't _skimp_ on the sour cream this time!"

Reeling in his seat, the harlequin laughed heartily at his own joke. One of the guards merely rolled his eyes and walked off to get a tray for the most hated inmate in all of Arkham. Joker's laughter quieted but his giggles did not. Holding his aching shoulder, the man had to keep the guffawing to a minimum; at least that's what the resident doctor told him. Three weeks ago, he was pretty mangled in a fight between him, Penguin and Freeze. His shoulder had a hole that you could fit your fist through. Among various other cuts, bruises and scrapes, Joker had a concussion and a couple of broken ribs. The pain was easy to laugh off.

The arch nemesis of the Batman had a lot to laugh about these days. He'd recently become the most hated person in all of Gotham; loathed by citizens and super-criminals alike. Why? Well, there was a little insider's joke to that. You see, a little over a month ago, the Batman was hospitalized after battling Penguin and Mr. Freeze. The Caped Crusader was in no shape to fight crime. So who kept Gotham safe while he recovered AND captured criminals like Basil Karlo, Peter Merkel and Oswald Cobblepot? The Harlequin of Hate, the Nemesis of Order, the Clown Prince of Crime… the Joker _himself_. Seeing that his best friend and favorite sparring partner needed a helping hand, Joker donned his Laughing Bat costume. Under that poorly stitched cowl, the harlequin took on the Batman's responsibilities and made sure that his Bat Buddy's work didn't pile up.

At the end of a month, the Laughing Bat challenged Penguin and Freeze, the very same criminals to land his best friend into intensive care, to a fight. Several punches, ice-cubes and jokes later, the Batman made his debut back onto Gotham's streets. Seeing no need to be a crime fighter anymore, Joker reverted to his same old self. So now here he was again… in Arkham; his home away from home.

Suddenly one of the beepers on an orderly's belt buzzed. Joker looked over to the young man as he drew the device from his waist.

"86 dinner, Joker." The youth's brown eyes met the criminal's red ones. "The doctor just paged me. He wants you back in the medical wing for a checkup."

The harlequin quirked a brow. He'd all ready had a check up this week; going for two was pretty unusual. Joker passed it off though and rolled his eyes.

"I hope there's a sponge bath and a lolly waiting for me." A smile cracked across his face again. The orderly shuddered as he helped his fellow staff to fasten the straight jacket to the super criminal again.

Joker got to his feet and was casually led out of his private lunch room.

The other offenders watched on with curiosity as the harlequin left without eating. Ozzy was the first to speak up.

"Huh… Joker just came to dinner just to get a rise out of Mudface and leave?" The bird-based villain shoved another spork-full of food into his mouth. "I know the food's not good but he's definitely one fruit loop short of a full box."

"He wouldn't be Joker without his mind tied in knots, Pengy." Merkel responded. Ozzy scowled on his collard greens.

"Jokester messed with nearly every villain in Gotham." The twenty-something portly man grunted. "If Mudface don't get him… someone else will."

Just then another supervillain joined the spiteful cafeteria. A tall, handsomely fit man stepped into the doorway. He wore white like the rest save for a black full-face mask adorning his head. Immediately he commanded the attention and fear of the room. _Bane_. He wasn't known by anything else but that sinister noun. The South American mercenary passed his unseen eyes over the mess hall, immediately icing up everyone with fear.

Bane's head and thusly his eyes seemed to have settled on the adjacent eating area. The man made fists and everyone then knew what he was thinking, or rather… _who_ he was thinking of. You'd have to be completely bonkers to want to cross the merc's path. Bane took his superpowers from an experimental serum that grants super-human strength. Sadly, he was without it now. Captured by the "Laughing Bat" and incarcerated to Arkham, you could only guess at the man's displeasure. Only Joker, the most insane of all criminals, dared to take on Bane. And the merc missed the harlequin by mere seconds. Grunting sinisterly, Bane snatched a tray and got his food.

Merkel and Ozzy fought off their fear and continued with their meal. Joker was as lucky as he was crazy. Who knows what would happen if Clayface or Bane ever got their hands on him?

Joker was walked into a sterile white room inside of Arkham's medical wing. The orderlies had left him and let the officers lead him into the examination area. The harlequin moped as he shuffled around. The room was a sight as familiar as it was boring. There were no sharp medical devices to be seen; only a simple doctor's examination bench and chair. It was wise though, Joker reasoned, to keep all sharp tools out of his hands. Aside from cutting out of his leather straight jacket, a good, sharp scalpel would provide hours of _fun_.

Joker walked to the examination bench and jumped up on it, the wax paper crackling under him. He smiled as a flurry of wicked ideas flooded his twisted mind.

"For my next big "thing"," the clown beamed at the nearest guard, "I think I'll get into the medical business. Laughter is, after all, the _best_ medicine."

He relished the looks of fear as they surfaced on the officers' faces. Then the door opened, causing the men to jump. In walked Arkham's resident doctor and the brown-eyed orderly following him.

"Good evening, Joker." You could hear the life-time of cigarettes in the doctor's voice.

"Evenin' doc!" The harlequin gave a wide smile as he watched the man approach. "Fancy seeing you again!"

Taking his eyes off of his clipboard to peer over the brim of his glasses at the crazed man, the doctor shrugged slightly.

"I am concerned about the health and wellbeing of all, including you Joker." He responded. "Which is why you are here."

The clown cocked his head at the doctor.

"What's goin' on this time, doc?" Joker questioned, recoiling his feet onto the examination bench. The doctor glanced up from his clipboard and clicked his tongue.

"I'm worried about your shoulder." He explained, reaching forward and placed a hand on the criminal's bound shoulder. "Your last blood test showed that there are still a lot of infectious bacteria in your body. This wouldn't have happened if you'd gotten to a hospital right after your injury…"

The doctor looked Joker square in the eye. The madman rolled his red eyes.

"Yeah, yeah… You said that the last time." Joker nodded it off. The doctor snorted.

"Then allow me to reiterate again, Joker." He took his hand from the clown's shoulder. "You'd be well on your way to recovery if you'd only gotten help for yourself."

With that the doctor turned and walked tapped his pen on his clipboard. Unbeknownst to him, Joker was making faces at him.

"So I will have to give you a dose of antibiotics." He walked to the door but stopped beside at the orderly. "Mr. Splash, you may administer the antibiotic shot."

Joker snickered at the orderly's bizarre last name and watched the brown-eyed boy nod. Then he caught the last word of the doctor's sentence.

"Shot?" The harlequin echoed, quirking a brow. The doctor turned and gave a nod.

"That's correct." Joker's face twisted with childlike confusion, meriting a laugh out of the medical professional. "It will only hurt for a second."

His smile readily returned at the mention of the worn-out medical cliché.

"Just _pointing_ out," the clown nearly laughed again, "that I usually get a pill and a slap on the back. If you give me a shot… I expect a lolly _AND_ a smiley face sticker!"

The doctor gave a pity smile.

"I have stickers..." The medical professional nodded away the young orderly and then returned his eyes to Joker with another ironic grin. "But they're all of the Batman."

Joker's smile tripled.

"_Sweet_!" He hooted as he flopped backwards, lying on the examination table. "Then _poke_ me!"

A second of silence from the doctor.

"Mr. Splash will take care of you, Joker. I've got other patients." With that the medical professional left the room, closing the door. Joker just laughed.

A Batman sticker! How funny! It would be good to admire a memento of his best friend. That is before he'd stamp it into the floor. Seconds later, the boy walked. Sitting up the villain spotted an alcoholic swab and a large hypodermic needle in the young man's hands. Raising his eyebrows, the giggling criminal's grin waned.

"My… what a big needle you have, Mr. _Splashes_!" Joker quipped, looking at the orderly. The brown-eyed orderly gave an annoyed frown.

"It's "Splash", Joker. How many times do I have to tell you?" Then a mocking smirk came to the boy's youthful face. "Don't tell me that the most feared and hated criminal in all of Gotham is afraid of _needles_?"

Joker immediately laughed.

"Needles? Ha!" The harlequin leaned into the boy's face. The orderly's blood ran cold at the depth of insanity he saw in the Joker's eyes. "The only thing I fear… is a bad joke."

Again, without really trying, Joker made another person nearly wet themselves. Reeling back, the villain guffawed. Snapping on a pair of sterile gloves, the youthful orderly gave a sarcastic laugh.

"Now hold still. This is gonna hurt you more that it's gonna hurt me." The boy rolled his brown eyes. Joker fought off a laugh as he sat perfectly still.

With a cool alcohol swab felt on his neck, Joker waited for the inevitable prick. He felt the needle sink into his skin and linger there for a few moments as Mr. _Splash_ administered the antibiotic. The uncomfortable pain was drowned out by the prospect of getting a sticker of his bestest best bud, the Batman. As Joker stared at the floor his brain went strangely numb and fuzzy. He couldn't resist unconsciousness as it folded over him.

The orderly and guards watched Joker's twisted smile fade and his eyes close before he reeled off of the bench and collapsed onto the floor. The brown-eyed orderly huffed and carefully held the syringe away from him.

"I thought he'd never shut up." The boy grunted before tossing a glance over his shoulder at the officers. "Keep an eye out for the doc."

The guards, who were on Black Mask's pay-role, rolled their eyes.

"Just make it quick, kid." One barked. "We still need to get Joker out of here without anyone knowing."

The orderly scoffed and pulled a vial of a sinister orange liquid from his coat's pocket. Plunging the spent syringe into the rubber membrane of the small jar, the youth filled the hypodermic with the sinister fluid. With a spiteful smirk, the orderly pulled the syringe free. With one motion, he sunk the needle into the back of Joker's thigh. Easing down the plunger, the boy pushed the NoiGon toxin deep into the villain's flesh, just as Black Mask ordered.

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Review! LONG LIVE ROCK!


	3. Contagious

Hello Saints and Sinners! CJzilla here with another update! In this chapter Bruce is not willing to give himself a break even though his body's still injured and Joker... is a contagious Joker is unleashed on Gotham. Enjoy!

As I rampage through this town, alls I have to roar is this...: R&R! Love... hate... review.

**AN: I own nothing of "the Batman" or Dr. Walsh... I wonder if he's related to JOE Walsh...**

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_"People who laugh actually live longer than those who don't laugh. Few persons realize that health actually varies according to the amount of laughter."_

_**Dr. James Walsh**_

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Chapter 3

_Contagious_

A cave; dark, deep and covered in mineral deposits from millenniums of dripping water. Amidst the towering stalagmites and hanging stalactites, cross-weaves of titanium reinforced levels and asphalt road cut through the rock. A computer screen of huge proportions cast a glowing blue light over the blackened shadows. Through the ambiance of eternally dripping water and flapping of the resident bats' wings, an adolescent girl's voice carried through the cavern.

"Dick… just sit _still_!" Barbara Gordon complained to her young friend. Both she and Dick Greyson were in the medical wing of their mentor's secret hideout.

"I'mmmf _fine_!" The teen boy garbled, his mouth and tongue still numb from Poison Ivy's muscle relaxer. Dick looked at his female friend and partner through naked green eyes.

Barbara, her Batgirl cowl draped over her neck, held a hand to the boy's shoulder while the other grasped a small flashlight.

"I've got to check your pupils!" The redheaded girl kept a frustrated expression as Dick tried to push her off of him. "Stop fighting! I would have been done by now!"

Dick didn't like it; he didn't like the blinding light in his eyes or Barbara closely looming over him. The boy shut his eyes to try to block out the light and the sight of the girl's face nearly on his.

"Stop!" He growled, turning his head. "I said I'mmmm… _fine_!"

But the teenage girl didn't listen. Grabbing her friend's chin she forced him to look up at here. Shining the flashlight in his overconfident green eyes, Barbara carefully checked them. His pupils reacted to light and gave her a wave of relief. Puffing a sigh into Dick's face she finally stood and flicked off the light.

"Dr. Barbara gives you a clean bill of health!" The girl proclaimed, setting the flashlight down on a medical caddy. "I prescribe more vegetables and less sass."

Quickly squiggling down her "prescription", Barbara took her joke one step further by handing it to Dick.

"That'll be six hundred dollars _and_ a cupcake!" She beamed at the overly annoyed look he gave her. The boy was still slumped forward, still kinda weak due to the drug's effects not worn off yet.

"Ha… ha… _ha_." Dick managed a grin before wadding up the paper and stuffing it in his mouth. Barbara laughed.

With the kids' laughter echoing through the cave and carried to his ears, Bruce Wayne smirked. Dick and Barbara were getting very close. In the long run it was for the best. Both teens needed the tightest of bonds if they were to be partners with the Dark Knight.

Bruce sat in front of the huge computer, screening through his latest finds on one of the most powerful crime syndicates in Gotham. Black Mask and his hordes of henchmen. It seemed that Roman Sionis had his blood-soaked fingers in everything from arms dealing to drug trafficking to crooked government officials. The man needed to be brought down.

"It seems that criminals get more theatrical and sensational with every passing year." A voice with a soft British accent came from behind him. The presence of Alfred Pennyworth caught Bruce off guard. "This Sionis chap must take that marred mask off to eat and sleep, does he not?"

The billionaire crime fighter scolded himself for not hearing his butler and close friend approach.

"It's only reasonable that he does, Alfred." Bruce found that his irritation slipped into his voice. "And I've been seeing that mask in my sleep for the last two weeks."

"Ah, yes." The older butler folded his arms neatly behind his back. "Two weeks ago you muddled his premier weapons dealer. Piqued you as well as Black Mask."

"I'm determined to catch Sionis; I will cleave off every one of his criminal middle men until I get to him." Bruce growled lowly. Alfred's prolonged silence only meant that he disagreed with his employer and friend.

"Master Bruce…" The prim and proper man finally spoke. "You've given yourself no rest. Sir, if you continue like this, none of your injuries will heal properly."

The younger man shot his friend a punishing glare.

"I'm fine, Alfred." He muttered. But Alfred would not have it.

"You arm, for instance." The butler snapped back. "Take a look at it."

Bruce looked down at his left arm. He saw that his arm had swelled again; the still injured muscles inflamed because they were stressed by his activity. The tight fabric of his Batman costume exaggerated the swelling… at least that's what Bruce thought.

"Just some _minor_ swelling." The man returned his eyes to the computer screen. He knew Alfred was not through yet.

"Pork pies and a bag of _tripe_, Master Bruce!" The English butler growled. "Your arm is re-injured. And what of your broken legs? Your shattered chest? You will hopelessly run yourself into the ground."

Again Bruce shot a glare at his friend.

"If I'm well enough to stand," he turned in his chair and leaned toward Alfred, "I am well enough to fight crime."

"You and I both know that crime never stops." The butler agreed, not breaking his angered glare toward his young friend. "BUT… it has slowed. Joker made sure of that."

Bruce's frown deepened. Yet a second time that someone mentioned Joker to him tonight. Irritated more than ever, Bruce turned back to his computer and huffed.

"Yin brought up Joker too." The man's voice was icy. "You two act like I owe Joker something."

"You owe that deranged harlequin nothing, Master Bruce." Alfred's tone did not unclench. "However, I see it fit to remind you that you are working your injured body too hard! And that most of Gotham's criminals are behind bars. There will always be criminal mischief… but take advantage of the slow times and rest. The Batman is no good if he does not allow himself to heal."

The twenty-something billionaire just held his eyes to the screen, his fingers working the keys. Inwardly, he could argue his case. Bruce had been taking it easy, since he was doing most of his work and research from the Bat-Cave. He'd tip off Commissioner Yin and Chief Bennett for the small stuff. But for the bigger criminals, such as Black Mask, Bruce's alter ego would personally manage them. Black Mask was out of the police's range; had been for years. Only the Batman could take down that master criminal.

Alfred gave a heavy sigh. Bruce was a stubborn person; the worst Alfred had ever known. Stubborn was what Gotham City needed, however it was rather unhealthy for Bruce Wayne. He was still limping, still flinching when he sneezed and still tender with everyday movement. Anyone with limited medical knowledge knew Bruce was far from well.

Alfred knew that there was nothing more he could do now with his young master. Turning and walking off quietly, the butler took the elevator to check on Master Greyson. Quickly ascending the two floors, Alfred exited the elevator. Barbara Gordon was standing in front of Dick, hands beside each of the boy's legs and staring intently at him.

"OK… Say… "Thumbelina"." The teen girl cracked a smile. Dick was clearly uncomfortable with the girl's playful nearness but he tried his best to pronounce words on a numb tongue.

"_Tummmbaleeena_." The boy drawled. Barbara giggled.

"Not even close, Dick." She said. "OK! New word! Say "Cumquats"."

A tint of red came to the boy's face. Alfred smiled at the innocence of youth as he walked over to them.

"Now, now Mistress Barbara." The butler put a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Master Dick was subjected to a muscle relaxant. Have a little courtesy. He knows he is a drooling fool right now."

Barbara laughed and stepped aside. The boy's redness got a little darker as he frowned at the butler.

"Squeeze my hand, Master Dick." Alfred held out his gloved hand to the boy. Dick took it but not without looking off in a huff.

The boy's grip was still weak for his usual, but strong enough to crack his fingers.

"Very good, young master." He nodded. "You're coming back to your senses quite nicely."

Barbara leaned in again.

"Really?" She beamed. "Because I was thinking if he was _this_ quiet, we should give him more muscle relaxants!"

Alfred shook his head.

"For a costumed crime-fighter, loose muscles are not recommended." He replied, giving her a cross look. "Master Dick would want all of his faculties in the face of Penguin, Bane or Joker."

The girl's face fell a bit as Dick stuck his tongue out at her.

"Okay, okay… you're right, Alfred." Barbara admitted. "I don't want to pick up any more slack."

The boy mocked her by giving her a teasing face. Barbara readily returned it. Alfred shook his head and glanced down at his watch.

"Mistress Barbara. Don't you have to be on your way soon?" He commented. The girl gasped.

"Oh, NO!" She exclaimed, bounding to the elevator. "Dad's gonna KILL me!"

The girl's playful and lovely face disappeared as the elevator doors closed over her form. Alfred knew Bruce would give her a ride; he always did.

"I t'out she'd never leave." Dick commented, arms folded. "I couln't f'ake anot'er minueeet…"

Alfred glanced back at the boy; his blush fading fast.

"Mistress Barbara has a way, doesn't she?" The butler stated. Dick looked up at him with a quirked eyebrow.

The man smirked and left the boy with his obscure comment ringing in his head. Alfred began to clean around the medical area; much out of habit. Of course the young boy couldn't reason with it but he could feel it. Dick had a puppy crush on Barbara, as did Barbara on Dick. It was obvious since the first time the Boy Wonder met Batgirl. Now it was a constant source of tickled enjoyment as Alfred watched the awkward attraction between the two teens.

"Bruce! Bruce!" Barbara came running out of the elevator and up to her mentor. The man was still seated at the super computer. "I need a ride _twenty_ minuets ago! If I don't make it home right away, my dad's going to-!"

"Then maybe you should have thought of that when you had the opportunity to leave on time." Bruce growled. The girl stopped, her expression turned embarrassed. "You had the chance to be on time instead you flustered Dick."

The redhead swallowed.

"And is than anything new for me?" She quipped. But Barbara would rather face her angry father and Bruce's evaluation. "C'mon! Or you're gonna have to find a new girl to fit into the bat tights and rattle off annoyingly ironic jokes!"

Bruce sighed heavily, his aching body still screaming at him.

"Take the Batmobile. I'll set it to autopilot." The man responded. Barbara looked surprised before she nodded.

"Thanks! I've always wanted a solo multi-million dollar car ride!" The girl flipped to the elevator and was taken to the Batmobile's parking platform.

The car's roof slid open and the girl readily jumped into the driver's seat.

"Vroom _vroom_!" Barbara cheered as the door snapped shut. Up from the computer, Bruce was typing in the destination for the Batmobile's autopilot.

The billionaire heard the specialized car's fuel-cell engine start. Bruce's mouth tugged into a small grin as he could almost hear Barbara's giddy screams as the Batmobile roared into the tunnels and out into the city.

Joker felt his body trounce with the movement. He was moving. Impossible! He was still in the Arkham Asylum's hospital wing, waiting for his lolly and Batman sticker! The infamous wacko turned his head and tried to open his eyes. When Joker did, images and lights swirled together. There were flashes of light before it'd get dark again. He recognized the passing of streetlights over a moving vehicle. But he was in Arkham! The loony bin had no highway…

"Ugh…" Joker garbled, trying to get his senses back on straight. His muscles were floppy and heavy.

The fuzz of unconsciousness was nothing new… but it was surprising. Did he faint? Did he experience an involuntary sensory overload that sent him into Candyland? The last thing he remembered was the stab of the antibiotic needle. Maybe he was scared of needles after all! Joker let out a clumsy laugh, finding his "new phobia" of needles amusing. With no way to produce coherent movement, Joker counted the streetlights his transport passed. Suddenly it slowed, made a left turn, rocked over potholes before coming to a gradual stop. By that time, the insane harlequin found out that he was in a laundry bin… full of inmate's _dirty_ clothes.

Joker was SO good at escaping, he could do it in his sleep! The man laughed louder this time.

And at once, the van's doors opened and shut. Counting the seconds until the sliding door opened, Joker saw two silhouettes in the windows. They glanced at him for a short second before they moved out of sight. Then the van's door opened and one man hopped into the back. It was so dark that Joker couldn't make out the man's face. All he knew… was that he was busted. Expecting the man to freak out, run away and call in an escaped inmate to Gotham PD, Joker managed a coy smile. But instead and against all logic, the unknown man grabbed the Harlequin of Hate and dragged him out of the bin.

With his mind still fuzzy and susceptible to sudden jolts, Joker felt vertigo before he felt thrown to the ground. Cool, hard asphalt of an alleyway was beneath his numb body. Rolling to his back, Joker only caught the two men hop into the van. The vehicle started up and casually made its way out of the alley. In just a manner of seconds, the van pulled around a corner and drive off into the night.

"_Oooommmph_…" Joker groaned, looking up into the spinning night sky. Freedom never felt so sick…

"Yeah… daddy. I'm sorry for being late again." Barbara spoke into her cell phone as the Batmobile carried her toward home. "Those Russian gymnasts sure know how to throw a pizza party."

James Gordon sighed heavily, angered just like any father would be if his child was out past curfew.

"You should have been home by now, Barbara." The man growled, making his daughter cringe in fear. "And you should have called BEFORE you went to that party! You didn't ask my permission, young lady!"

"I know, dad." Barbara tried to calm her father as the Batman's vehicle sped quickly over a highway near her home.

"Really?!" James Gordon barked. "Then why are we having this conversation? And why am I grounding you… _again_?!"

The girl took the phone from her ear, hugged it to her chest and gave a loud moan. Grounded! AGAIN! That was _really_ going to cut in on her time as Batgirl! She was stretched thin as it was!

"Grounded? _Really_, pop?" Putting the cell phone back to her face, Barbara pouted into it. Her father grunted.

"Yes! You are grounded for the next week!" James Gordon ranted. "For disobeying curfew! You do it again and privileges will be revoked! Starting with going to Bruce Wayne's mansion."

Barbara gasped.

"But he's my gymnastics' sponsor!" Through a carefully calculated weave of lies and being "randomly" chosen for some charity, the great Bruce Wayne chose to sponsor Barbara Gordon's gymnastic career. Little did her father know that the man was also her crime-fighting mentor. "What am I supposed to tell Mr. Wayne?"

"The truth, Barb." Her father responded. "Tell him how irresponsible and disobedient you are to your curfew!"

"True that." The girl mumbled. Bruce Wayne knew pretty much every personality quirk of hers.

"What did you say?" James Gordon snapped, sure that his daughter was mocking him. Barbara opened her mouth to respond until she looked up.

In the headlights of the Batmobile, she saw someone in a white pants and shirt stumbling across the street and right in front of the speeding vehicle. She gasped and immediately reached for the steering wheel. When she jerked on it, the wheel refused to move. The autopilot was locked. Barbara could only watch as the Batmobile sped toward the idiot lingering in the street. She shut her eyes and expected a "thump" and all of the man's innards strewn across the hood.

Seconds before the big black car barreled across the man, he jumped high into the air. Landing gracefully, not unlike a professional athlete, Joker felt his heart race as he watched the car speed away. He was lucky he wasn't killed! With a dizzy smile, the harlequin stumbled out of the street and into the shadows, intent of getting his brain back together and finding his hideout. He did not recognize the neighborhood he was in OR his best friend's infamous car.

Barbara felt and heard nothing. Opening her eyes, she saw only the headlights of the Batmobile shining on black pavement. Spinning in her seat, Barbara looked out the back window. In the fading illumination of the Batmobile's taillights, she saw someone dressed in white stagger into the darkness. That's all she saw because the car took a quick right turn and pulled to a stop behind Barbara's home. Wow… was there really a person in front of the Batmobile or was she seeing things?

"Barb! Barbara!" The girl heard her father shouting at her through her phone. Shaking slightly, the teen put the phone back up to her ear.

"Sorry, pop. Some doofus _nearly_ got creamed by… a car." The _Bat_mobile to be exact. James Gordon groaned angrily.

"Get home right now!" He snarled. "It's not safe to be out after dark in this city!"

Just then the roof of the Batmobile opened and the girl looked into the night sky.

"OK. I'm almost home. I just got a ride from a good friend. See you soon." Barbara grinned at the irony.

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Review! LONG LIVE ROCK!


	4. Begin

Hello everybody! CJzilla here with another chapter.

In this chapter, Black Mask's plans are set into motion as Joker is running free through Gotham. The Harlequin of Hate has a new scheme for the city, unawares of what has been done to him. Enjoy.

As I tear up this town, alls CJzilla has to roar is this: Love, hate... review.

I own no quote of Thedor Adorno

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**_"He who has laughter on his side has no need of proof." _**  
**_Theodor Adorno _**

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Chapter 4

_Begin_

"_One new message__."_

Roman Sionis felt his expensive mobile phone vibrate in his chest pocket. Seated in his newest penthouse office, cleverly hidden in one of his allies' business buildings, the criminal overlord known as Black Mask looked down from the window. Putting a hand in his pocket, the masked crime boss retrieved his phone. Opening up his inbox that was directly linked to his e-mail, Black Mask hungrily read the newest message.

_Task completed. Inmate number 230D1 infected._

From under his skull-like ebony mask, Roman grinned as he eagerly typed in a reply.

_Grand. Has Joker been released?_

Black Mask thoroughly enjoyed the godlike power of being a crime boss. With but an e-mail, he could turn Gotham on its ear. And as his current plan unfolded, Black Mask would watch the Batman hopelessly scramble to stop it.

Joker is a chaotic villain, meaning that he took pleasure in creating misery and mayhem for no discernable reason. Such an unpredictable wild card presented a challenge for the Dark Knight. And with the NoiGon toxin administered in the Harlequin of Hate, Joker was now a walking contagion. If the Batman didn't locate the psychotic harlequin _and_ find a cure within the next twenty four hours, Gotham would be infected and thusly… destroyed.

_Affirmative. Joker taken into city and freed. The toxin is mobile._

Black Mask let out a laugh. Perfect! Joker would soon succumb to the poison. As soon as the harlequin took his last breath, the toxin would then leave his corpse and become airborne. Carried in the air, it was only a matter of time before someone else was infected. Then a chain reaction would happen and Gotham would be wiped off the map. Black Mask was not worried, however; the poison was to just buy his latest scheme time.

_Good work. Keep silent until you are contacted next._

Sitting back in his plush chair, Black Mask enjoyed watching the night give way into the morning twilight. Let criminal mayhem and the count down… begin. Flipping his phone to his ear, Roman Sionis placed a call. He listened to the other end ring once before his call was answered.

"Yes, Black Mask?" A female voice came to his ear.

"Activate a fake bank account. Be sure to leave my fingerprints all over it…" Black Mask barked. "And I want you and a few henchmen pay a visit to one of my warehouses. I expect the Batman to call on my organization. Further instructions will be given as you, Number One. But pack light."

"Yes, sir." Number One acknowledged. Black Mask dropped the call without a goodbye.

Putting his phone back into his pocket, the crime boss snickered. _That_ will give the Batman something to chew on. Getting up, Sionis again walked to the window. The man looked down at the front of City Hall. In the building's courtyard lie unopened crates filled with choice building materials. Gotham City was preparing to host a summit. Both Gotham's and Metropolis' greatest minds were to converge inside City Hall. What were over a dozen eggheads discussing at this overly-publicized assembly? Two words… Crime Control. Sionis scowled lightly.

Sionis and his crime syndicate were not taking this summit lightly. It was insulting to the crime boss. So Black Mask was going to make sure that this meeting failed to do much against his criminal indulgences. Namely… a wanton massacre just to show the world that Black Mask will never be silenced.

Folding his hands behind his back, Sionis caught one last glimpse of City Hall before the sun bathed Gotham in a warm golden glow.

Joker collapsed in the shadows of a filthy alleyway. His senses were still churning. The pale harlequin sat up and rested against the cool tin of a warehouse building. At least he knew where he was. Joker held his eyes to the ground between his legs; if he was to look up and see the amber morning sky twist again, he'd vomit. Shaking his head, the insane clown tried to clear his vision. At least his brain still worked.

It all began at Arkham! Joker bet there was more than antibiotics in that needle that the snidely orderly Splash stuck him with. So… he was drugged and hauled out of the asylum. The question right now was… why? To be honest, Joker was aiming to bust out soon anyway. He'd never think the asylum's staff would give him a ride _out_.

"Mmmm... Funny." The harlequin chuckled, tilting his head upwards again. The sky was not roiling as bad as it once was; his mind was clear enough to walk.

Getting to his feet, Joker rambled to the front door of the deserted warehouse. Twisting the doorknob, he found it was locked. Raising his heel to the doorknob, the harlequin broke it off with a single kick. The brass doorknob chimed as it hit the concrete and was picked up as Joker entered his hideout. It was just as he left it…

The Harlequin of Hate had hideaways like this all over Gotham; the police rarely ever found them to correctly dispose of all the giggle-based paraphernalia. Though the building was dark, Joker could make out where everything was. Among the many pilfered crates from various local novelty stores, there were gigantic teddy bears, jack-in-the-boxes and marred masks. Joker felt his mouth spread into a grin. Nothing like seeing his gloriously twisted madness again after spending two long weeks inside Arkham.

He staggered through the building, playfully juggling the doorknob as he groped the darkness. Joker's hand soon met something he was familiar with. Running his touch down the smooth plastic, he grasped the knob and turned it.

"-just $19.99! But wait! If you call in the next five minuets, we will throw in this brand new mixing bowl! _Absolutely_ free!" The old TV flickered and hissed, playing an infomercial. Joker didn't care what was on, he just smiled knowing that he was still stealing cable from the neighbors.

With the added light, the insane harlequin could now see things clearer. Walking slowly over to a work bench, he pulled the switch of an overhanging lamp. With the deserted warehouse bathed in new light, Joker steadied himself on his work bench. He was wobbly but the super criminal dismissed it. He was free and he had all the time in the world to concoct another plan for Gotham City.

"Arkham is quite the muse." Joker giggled to himself, sweeping off junk from the table. "And I am inspired! Inspired to save lives! I will bring laughter to the masses, one _patient_ at a time."

Reaching into a crate, the clown pulled out a plastic stethoscope and costume doctor's coat. Joker gave a low chuckle, his plan coming together in his mind. He aimed to make good on his comment to those crooked officers at Arkham Asylum. He was going to delve into the medical practice, Gotham City being his hospital and Gothamites being his patients. Joker let out a loud laugh as he began to put together his "healing" novelties. He'd get to play operation yet.

Little did Joker know that hidden by the numbness of his chemically induced haze was a toxin that was slowly spreading to the rest of his body. It was gradually seeping through every sinew and every tissue of his body, aided by the clown's poor health.

First the fever would attack his body before the violent muscle aches and spasms. The fever would grow to dangerous temperatures and eventually put him into unconsciousness. By that time, his high temperature would have killed off most of his brain tissue. Joker would stop breathing and suffocate. A trigger would then be flipped in the poison's chemistry. It would then leave Joker's body and bleed into the air. Anyone in contact with the contaminated atmosphere would become infected.

Bruce sat in a recliner, his aching eyes growing so heavy. This was part of his rehabilitation and he hated it. It was so dull not to mention uncomfortable. The chair, an expensive one at that, would massage Bruce's healing injuries, stimulating blood flow and reflexes. He considered this chair a tool of torture. Waves of movement from its pulsating massaging nodes would rub up against Bruce's battered body. It hurt, it was uncomfortable, it was unnecessary and would have been outlawed by the Geneva Convention under any other circumstances; at least in his mind.

Gritting his teeth, Bruce felt the chair finally touch his shattered leg. His limbs had all taken a beating a month and three weeks ago but his right leg was the worst. Bruce squeezed his eyes shut and begrudgingly let the machine do its task. If he didn't sit through an entire "massage" session, Alfred wouldn't let him hear the end of it.

But then the TV suddenly powered on. And the sound of the Bat-Wave alert chirped. Bruce sighed in relief as he sprung out of the recliner.

"Saved." He grinned and limped toward the Bat Cave.

Once on his large super-computer, Bruce read the incoming crime alert. Black Mask had opened a phony bank account. How did Bruce know that? Because he'd been tracking and studying Roman Sionis for the better part of his criminal career. Sionis was too important of a crime boss to be so careless and this bank account was too boisterous to be real. Bruce sneered. This bank account was the equivalent of chumming the water for a shark; Black Mask knew that the Batman was going to investigate this.

"Well Sionis… if you want the Batman so bad, you will get your wish." Bruce rose from his chair and walked to the elevator. He'd get Dick and Alfred up.

Black Mask was no pushover and if this was a trap, which it most likely is, then the Batman would need his sidekick and trusted butler to watch his back.

"I smell a trap." Dick Greyson observed, thumbing the fabric of his glove. "And you know what tipped me off? It was the second we took a drive into the warehouse district."

It was early in the morning. Gotham was just beginning to stir. But the warehouse district, where forklifts, workers and big trucks would be moving to and fro, was empty. Bruce Wayne narrowed is eyes as he looked down at the Batmobile's console computer. The GPS was linked to the Bat Wave and was directing them towards the very last storage facility of the depot. And yes, for being one of the main commerce arteries of Gotham, it was a ghost town.

"And where's Batgirl? We need her for something this big!" Dick complained, rubbing his shoulder. Bruce's lips tightened.

"Batgirl called me last night. She explained that her father came down hard on her for being late. She's been grounded for the next week." Batman explained. Dick flinched. "Which is going to make us work a little harder without her."

Dick looked out the window.

"Poor Batgirl." He mumbled. "Back at the botanical gardens she told me that she's been under a lot of pressure. I guess being _Barbara_ isn't helping the situation."

Bruce glanced at the boy.

"She needs to learn responsibility and time management." The man voiced. "She can't shirk her responsibilities to her father and expect to get away with it."

The teenager shot his mentor a glare.

"Hey! Barbara just needs to be cut some slack. It's not like she's not spending her time in the best possible way." Dick replied, his eyes narrowed behind his mask. Bruce sighed.

He made a mental note to give James Gordon a call and see if he couldn't ease the tension between him and his daughter.

Suddenly the Bat Wave chirped and the Batmobile pulled to a stop outside of a featureless warehouse. Bruce narrowed his eyes as he unbuckled from his seat.

"So what now? We go in, guns a-blazin'?" Dick pounded his fist in his hand. But his mentor had a different idea.

"We stroll in through the front door, Robin." Bruce said. The teenager experienced a rare moment of speechlessness.

"Oh… all right. I'm up for a stroll." He could tell Dick was sarcastic and frowning. "Can you at least _pretend_ to care about a trap?"

Bruce pursed his lips as he opened the car door.

"I don't think it's a trap, Robin. It's not Black Mask's style to be obvious about traps." The capped crime fighter returned. The teenager sighed and nodded.

"OK. Following your lead, bossman." Dick said, hopping out of the Batmobile. Bruce rose from the car with aches and pains slowing him.

Perhaps it was wishful thinking on the Batman's part for saying that this was not a trap. Bruce didn't want to strain himself again with any activity. It hurt to breathe as it was. But sticking to his plan, the capped crusader walked up to the warehouse's door and laid a hand on the door handle. It wasn't locked and opened with ease. Narrowing his eyes, the Batman stood in the doorway, looking over the insides of the warehouse. The skylights allowed in as much morning light as possible yet there was a large overhanging lamp in the middle of the area. And standing under it was none other than Black Mask's Number One. But even in the heavy shadows, Bruce could make out 12 henchmen armed with batons.

"Still think this isn't a trap?" Robin quipped, quirking a brow. The Batman shook his head.

"It doesn't smell like a trap." He responded, eyes narrowed as he walked into the warehouse. Something was not right about this but instead of reaching for his weapons, Bruce walked toward Black Mask's head henchwoman.

The woman narrowed her only good eye, standing straight and poised even as the Batman and Robin neared her. They stood across from each other. But with a nod of her head, Number One called over another henchman. As commanded the solider approached his commander. He was holding a laptop. Without a word, she took it from the henchman's hands and opened it. The computer flicked on. With the tap of a few buttons, a web stream was established. Bruce was then looking into Black Mask's eyes through a webcam.

"Greeting Batman." Roman Sionis nodded, folding his hands. Bruce narrowed his eyes.

"What's this all about, Sionis?" He barked. The crime boss chuckled.

"It's not a trap, if that's what you're thinking, Batman." Black Mask responded. "Think of this as the beginning of a scavenger hunt… with the fate of Gotham being in your hands."

Robin growled.

"What did you do this time?" The boy growled, taking a step forward. The criminal's eyes trailed to the teenager and back to Batman's.

"I've been feeling the heel of your boot over my neck for quite some time Batman." Black Mask growled. "And frankly I've had enough of it. I've got some big plans coming up soon and I'd hate to have you interfering in them. So… I've set up a little project to keep you busy."

Then the man held up a vial of thick, orange liquid.

"This, Batman is a stolen experimental NoiGon product." The criminal continued. "It's a biological chemical that was originally intended to fight invasive species of animals. But it has other uses as well as a rather interesting reproductive method. Once a victim is infected, the poison will incubate, eating away nerve cells and vital organs. Once the feast has ran its course, the host dies and the chemical reacts to the falling internal temperature. It then seeps into the air only to find more hosts and start the cycle all over again… Get the picture?"

Bruce gritted his teeth. Black Mask tucked the chemical back into his suit coat.

"Poisoned the water system, have you Black Mask?" Robin hissed. "That's the oldest terrorist trick in the book!"

"Don't flatter yourself, you little boil." The crime boss shot back. "I have infected only one person. It only takes one infection to start the snowball effect. And that's what you're hobby is going to be for the next few days, Batman. The poison has a 48 hour incubation. Once those two days are up… well, the toxin will become infectious."

Stepping forward, Bruce balled his fists.

"This is low even for you, Sionis. What innocent person did you stick with such a horrible death?" To his surprise, Black Mask chuckled.

""Innocent" is a stretch, Batman." Sionis answered. "I was careful to choose the carrier. They had to be unpredictable, fast and able to match wits with you. That left only one true psycho. Joker."

Bruce jerked back in surprise.

"And as I've said before, Batman, this is just a hobby for you, to keep you distracted. I know that you'll succeed in catching this chemical before it's contagious. I'm buying myself some time, is all." Black Mask sat back in his chair and you could almost see the smug look on his face. "You have less than 48 hours to find and cure Joker before he succumbs to the poison. I recommend that you get a move on Batman."

With that, the criminal boss terminated the web transmission. Closing the laptop, Number One stood there watching the Batman and Robin speed towards their car. Black Mask's plan to keep his archenemy occupied was all ready working wonders.

"What a lowlife!" Dick hissed, buckling in as Bruce threw the Batmobile in reverse. "Resorting to poisoning? That's just sick."

Bruce scowled. The plan was as genius as it was desperate.

"We need to go to Arkham Asylum; Joker checked in just two weeks ago and I have not received any reports of him breaking out." He voiced, speeding out of the warehouse district.

"As bad as Joker was hurt, I'd say it'd be weeks before he'd be well enough to even think about busting out." Dick returned. He saw his mentor's eyes narrow significantly.

"I'd forgotten about his injuries. That means the toxin will have a head start on Joker's weakened body. We have even less time." Bruce gunned the engine of his custom vehicle.

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Review! LONG LIVE ROCK!


	5. Arkham Hush

Hey everybody! CJzilla here with another chapter. Enjoy. Oh... there is a tiny drug reference in the latter part of this addition. Nothing big, just suggesting...

As I rampage all over this city, alls CJzilla has to roar is this: Love... hate... I don't care.

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_A good laugh and a long sleep are the best cures in the doctor's book. _

**_~Irish Proverb_**

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Chapter 5

_Arkham Hush_

Arkham Asylum hadn't even begun to stir yet. Night shift employees were still counting the minuets before they were relieved. And the asylum's residents were still sleeping in their padded cells. The front door was locked however the backdoor had less security during these wee morning hours. On the other hand, Bruce and Dick never had trouble breaking into the mad house. Security, what is was anyway, had always been lacking. The word "comical" often entered into Bruce's mind every time an inmate would escape; which seemed to be every other day.

The Dark Knight and the Boy Wonder entered Arkham, passing through the stone wall corridors like ghosts. The asylum was very quiet, only the sound of water dripping and the footfalls of a lone guard patrolling the cell block were heard. Peeking around a corner, Bruce watched the sentry walk, daydreaming by the look on his face.

"What's Joker's Arkham number THIS week?" Dick quipped, an ironic smirk on his face. "Since they reset IDs after every breakout, you'd think Joker's gone through the alphabet about a dozen times all ready."

Bruce shook his head.

"230D1." He spoke. With that he moved out into the hallway, running into the nearest shadow, Robin right behind him. "As he's always been. But I reason that he's in Arkham's penthouse."

Now standing with a good look over the huge prison block, Bruce cast his eyes upwards. There, at the tippy top of the enormous building, was a corner cell. More spacious than all the other cages, the "penthouse" had a bathroom sink, chairs, a wonderful panorama of Gotham City and a mattress; luxuries considering the prison.

"They're probably keeping Joker separate from all the other offenders." The Capped Crusader mumbled. Dick looked up at his mentor.

"Why the special treatment all of a sudden?" The boy questioned. Bruce looked down.

"Joker is responsible for the asylum being so full. He did act in the Batman's place for a little over a month." He answered. "And I bet everyone, from the smallest mental case to the biggest criminal, wants Joker dead because of his crimes against fellow criminals. Think of the bloodlust they have towards me… but against one of their own."

Dick's eyes widened from under his mask.

"Whoa." The teen awed. Joker's state was indeed grim; every criminal probably had their sights set on his head. "And so we're here to what? Break Joker out so we can cure him?"

Bruce's eyes narrowed.

"I _highly_ doubt Black Mask is going to make this _that_ easy." He growled. "But this is our best lead. We find Joker, we can save him and Gotham. And yes; if Joker is here, we'll have to give him an escort out."

Dick gave an ironic yet entertained smile. With that, the Batman dashed off toward the stair case, Robin on his heels. Why the extra stealth? Because anyone incarcerated in Arkham would relish the pleasure to find the Batman within harm's reach. Bruce was all too aware that his presence could cause a massive riot.

The paramount echelon offered a unique view to the Arkham cell block. Guard posts were wisely positioned on this floor because of the clear vantage point to all inmates' chambers. And at the very corner, the pinnacle of the building was one lone cell. Joker's cell.

Bruce and Dick silently approached the cell, not too sure what they would find. Opening the shutter, Bruce's blue eyes scanned the room.

"No Joker." He cursed. "That means he's escaped."

Dick frowned.

"Without any of the authorities being notified? Without any alarms being set off? Are you sure he's not in there?" Without waiting for the Batman's say so, Dick dropped to his knees and began picking the cell's lock. Bruce watched him without stopping him; Joker's cell could offer some clues as to the bizarre nature of the harlequin's silent breakout.

With one last turn on his pick, the door easily opened. Bruce's eyes were set directly on Joker's bed. The blankets were not disturbed, having appeared to be searched by the asylum staff and promptly put up after. It wasn't even warm, as Bruce found out.

"Joker's toothbrush isn't wet, Batman." Dick said. "The facial towel is dry and the place seems organized. It's like its lacking-…"

"Lacking Joker? He would have put his own special touch on his cell by now." Bruce narrowed his eyes. "That means he's been gone since the last bed check; any giggle-based paraphernalia would be confiscated during those preventative raids. The last round was near to 6:00 at night; dinner time."

Dick growled.

"Well, SOMEONE would have noticed that Joker's flown the coop by now! Why hasn't anyone been informed?" The teen threw his hands to the ceiling. "The Arkham staff couldn't prevent a breakout even if it was a zit on their face."

Bruce mulled his bottom lip.

"It may not be that simple, Robin. Sionis has men everywhere; maybe even here. Black Mask had Joker released." The detective grunted. "It's the only explanation to why someone like Joker had such a quiet escape. The cards have been dealt, Robin."

Snatching his Bat Wave, the Batman was dialing Commissioner Yin's phone number.

"Good idea. We can get Gotham PD to send out an APB." Robin smiled. "That'll make it easier for us."

Bruce looked down at his sidekick and narrowed his eyes. The benefit to the police's assistance would mean thousands of extra eyes out for Joker. But that would be too dangerous.

A sudden ring woke Commissioner Ellen Yin from sleep. It was the Bat Wave. Turning in bed, she snuck a glance at her clock. Thirty minuets before the alarm went off. Groaning, the oriental woman dug around in her night stand's drawer. Placing it to her ear, Yin sighed.

"Batman? This is a little early." She ran her fingers through her hair. Opening her eyes, she looked at the ceiling fan turn.

"We have a situation, Commissioner." The Batman's gravel voice entered her brain. "And it involves all of Gotham."

A brick hit her stomach as Ellen sat up.

"Care to elaborate, Batman?" She sat up and swung her legs over her bed.

"Black Mask contacted Robin and I this morning and told us about a plan of biological warfare." The Caped Crusader said, sounding like he was pacing. "He divulged that he'd infected Joker with a powerful chemical that will spread once the harlequin succumbs to the poison. The toxin will infect all of Gotham."

Yin swallowed hard.

"A plague? A new one for Black Mask." She growled. "But the last report that went through my office was that Joker is still in Arkham. There's no-!"

But the Batman cut her off.

"Robin and I are standing in Joker's cell. He's gone. Black Mask made sure that we have plenty to do. But my team and I will handle Joker, Commissioner. Sionis has something else up his sleeve." An angry tone was present in the Batman's voice. "Joker's plight is just a small task. Black Mask is planning something big; something that required making a dangerous distraction to accomplish. We're going to have to work together on this."

"I'll put an APB on Joker immediately." Yin voiced, her hand reaching for her cell phone.

"No. This is far more delicate than that, Commissioner. I need you to find out what else Black Mask is planning. You have a time frame; something will happen in the next twelve to twenty four hours." Yin looked at her clock. It was 6:30. "Let me handle Joker. You take care of Black Mask."

Yin sighed as she grabbed her clothes.

"Fine. You have point, Batman. But if you need anything, don't hesitate to call." She responded. "But riddle me this, Batman... Where is Joker now?"

A lengthy pause, indicating that the super detective did not know.

"Right." Yin hushed. "Then I will take care of Sionis. You find Joker."

Without a goodbye, the Batman ended the call. Ellen Yin took a moment to catch her breath and steady the pounding in her heart. The Batman was the best in the business, as far as getting into Joker's mind goes. But now Gotham PD had a daunting task placed in front of them; they needed to know Black Mask's next move. Roman Sionis had friends, resources and time on his side. The odds were not favorable. But Yin would rather chase after the crime kingpin than play gatekeeper to Joker's mind.

Finally dressing herself and on her way to the bathroom to quickly make herself presentable, Yin snatched her cell phone. Punching the first number on her speed dial, the Commissioner of Police contacted her dear friend and Police Chief _Ethan Bennett_. They would work together will all precincts to find Black Mask.

Bruce and Dick were still haunting Arkham Asylum's hallways. Robin stood lookout as Batman feverishly hacked the Arkham guard and orderly schedules. There had to be at least _one_ person acting under Black Mask that was on shift when Joker disappeared. There was about 150 guards and 130 orderlies on duty last night. Bruce worked to narrow down the list of suspects. And he had to find out the individual or individuals as soon as possible. Morning rounds would be made in a mere hour and as soon as someone discovered that Joker had gone missing, all alarms would be raised. And every enemy of Joker's would be informed that the harlequin was without a protective escort.

"Uh… you might want to move a little faster, boss man." Bruce heard Dick whisper. The Caped Crusader looked up. "I just heard some guards talking. The shifts are changing."

Bruce cursed under his breath. He was down to 15 staff members. But then one name stuck out at him. Clarence Splash. A young man with nothing to lose and all things to gain.

"Found him." He said aloud. Dick perked his head up. "Clarence Splash. He has the motive, opportunity and time."

Robin nodded.

"But something tells me that he's not working right now." The teen returned, a crease of disappointment on his face. Bruce frowned as he tucked his communicator away.

"He starts on the lunch shift. But that's too much time to waste. WE find _him_." With that, the Batman bolted toward the nearest exit, his sidekick right behind him.

Roman Sionis was quite pleased with himself. He sat in a posh penthouse, a bowl of imported chocolates near one hand and his internet phone in the other. Currently the crime boss was in a digital conference with his various henchmen. His men were everywhere. Black Mask had his fingers in nearly every bowl of cherries from here to Metropolis; from catering companies to crooked cops within government ranks. Gotham had seemed to forget exactly _who_ was pulling the strings. The manifestation of the Batman seemed to give the city a very large sense of security, but they neglected to remember that even before the masked man showed himself, Black Mask always had presence. Gotham was overdue for a reality check.

"Black Mask, there have been 34 more additions to the summit's attendance." One Black Mask agent spoke.

"That means we will have to add approximately 3.4 more grams of explosive to the existing." Another voiced.

"The blast has to be carried over, say… another fifty feet or so." Yet another said.

Sionis snorted, hearing his bomb-makers argue over the proportions and size of the warhead's explosive range.

"The details of the explosion are simple, you fools." Black Mask growled. "Bring City Hall to a crumble. I want the first four rows and the podium destroyed for sure. Whether there are survivors, is not a care to me. I want to make this crime prevention convention as an example. I don't care if you get creative with the blasts."

He heard a few chuckles over his comm.

"Would you be against ball bearings and pieces of rebar laced with the blast, boss?" One agent asked. Sionis grinned softly at the thought of deadly shrapnel shooting through his victims.

"Like I said: make it an example." The crime boss repeated, holding in a laugh. "I want no mistakes. Show Gotham city that Black Mask will not sit back and allow such an insult go unnoticed."

"Yes, Black Mask."

"Yes, Black Mask."

Barbara Gordon was fast asleep in her bed, her face buried into her soft pillow. After a long night like last night, the red head still smelled like cut grass. Poison Ivy was especially draining to Barbara, aside from dodging the mutant teen's plant-based creations. Pamela Isely was once her friend; they even ran around avenging crimes against the environment together, though Pamela always took the lead and was more aggressive with her opinion. And Barbara couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt over Isely's plant transformation. Had she turned Pam in sooner, maybe she wouldn't be a humanoid-vegetable with plant powers.

Turning in her soft bed, her brown eyes came to the digital clock on her bedside table. Blinking the post-sleep fuzz out of her eyes, Barbara saw that she had just five minuets before her alarm would ring. Groaning, she turned again and pulled the pillow over her messy red hair. Day _one_ of being grounded for another week. She had called Bruce right before she went to bed last night, explaining her dad's disciplinary measures. Reaching for the Bat Wave communicator under her pillow, Barbara thumbed the cool stainless steel and plastic. Bruce had told her that he would "take care of it".

Barbara felt relief. Who better person to get her out of this pickle than the Batman? But until Bruce acted on his word, she would continue on just as her dad had told her. _Obey the curfew_! So that meant fewer night assignments and more work during the day. Barbara was confident that Bruce and Dick could hold their own while she was grounded. They'd done so before, making room for her gymnastics career without a complaint.

Sighing, Barb felt more guilt rise. If she'd managed her time a little better, she wouldn't be in this situation. But no more! Right then, Barbara Gordon made a goal to be more responsible, starting by hitting the snooze on her alarm clock and dozing off for another five minuets.

Clarence Splash sat in his apartment, staring at a flickering television. His eyes were blood-shot, his hands and legs shaky but he felt on cloud 9. Being an orderly in Arkham Asylum offered little pay, little room for advancement; not that Clarence cared about his humdrum job. Splash was all about instant gratification, immediate pleasure… and various illegal substances packed into syringes and fed through his veins. And that little job for Black Mask gave him the extra cash to fill many syringes. The pitiable young man watched his lewd television program, enjoying the pulse of excess chemicals assaulting his brain. Suddenly something blocked his vision. Blinking his dry and dilated eyes, Clarence looked up. He saw a mass of black and two angry eyes narrowed at him.

"Clarence Splash?" And suddenly a boy entered his frame of view. And at seeing the kid's colorful costume, he knew exactly who he was dealing with. "We have a few questions about last night's shift."

For added effect on the druggie, Robin pounded his fist into his hand. The motion took a long second to register but he did see the man's eyes widen in terror as he gripped the arm rests of his worn chair. Batman had little to say; he merely stared down the intoxicated young man.

"Robin… go into the kitchen and get some cold water." The Dark Knight finally spoke, his hand going to his utility belt and retrieving two plastic restraints. The boy smiled and did as he was told.

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Review... LONG LIVE ROCK!


	6. Laughing Medicine

Hey! Been a while, hasn't it? I can't apologize enough for that. Here's a new chapter. You know the drill...

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_Dad always thought laughter was the best medicine, which I guess is why several of us died of tuberculosis._

**~Jack Handey, "Deep Thoughts," _Saturday Night Live_**

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Chapter 6

_Laughing Medicine_

7:15 in the morning... the Saint Cathrine General Hospital, port side Gotham; the emergency department was in full swing. Nurses worked as well as they could under such a chaotic atmosphere. Between managing patients, their injuries and their insurance papers, the hospital staff was stretched thin. This was a normal morning for Saint Catherine, but the following events would completely blindside the hospital.

A woman frantically typed on her computer. The taste of her first cup of coffee was bitter in her mouth as she chewed on a pencil. This was definately a bad day to swear off of caffenated products. Her mind was completely focused on the computer screen and sending critical information up the the surgical staff. She heard the jiggling of bells too late.

"I don't feel so good." A weak voice came from over the counter. She spat out her pencil yet never took her eyes off the computer.

"Are you in pain, sir? Where?" She asked, a well practiced set of questions. There was a pause.

"It's my... funny bone. It won't stop _tickling_." The person was biting back laughter. A chill ran up the nurse's spine as her eyes shot upwards.

That smile, that infamous smile. _Joker_.

A giggle was held in Joker's throat as he saw the pure shock and suprise leap onto the woman's face. She was so stupified, she was frozen. The clown casually put a marred teddy bear up onto the counter while simultaneously leaning forward toward her.

"Careful... it's contagious." He whispered in her ear, past the whisps of brown hair. And with a flick of his fingers, he pressed the teddy bear's paw.

The hiss of compressed air came from the toy. Bitter fumes invaded the woman's face and into her lungs. She heard someone start laughing.

Joker watched his gas take effect on the over-worked hospital concerge. She giggled and laughed before finally falling out of her chair, howling in hysterics. Then her face froze in that lovable, twisted smile Joker adored so much. It was such a shame watching people work so hard without a good laugh. But that's why he decided to stake a claim in this hosiptal. He would be the Angel of Laughter.

"Hear me all you sick and injured people!" Joker spun on his heel, flinging off the overcoat and hat he was wearing. He fixed a toy stethescope around his neck and beamed at all the horrified expressions of the patients in the lobby. "The doctor... is in."

Retrieving two more of his special teddy bears from inside his doctor's coat, the Harliquin of Hate flung them to the floor. The toys popped, sending waves of concentrated Joker Gas over the large space. Screams of terror faded into laughter. Joker couldn't help but chortle along with his victims as the poison took hold of their bodies, barely noticing something wet trickle down his neck. Still giggling, he passed two of his permanently white fingers over his skin. He was sweating? Huh, the AC must be on the fritz? The clown passed it off and carried on with his plan to take over the hospital. He brought enough teddy bears to gas the entire building. He could take his time. No one knew he was here.

Little did he know it was the invasive toxin taking hold of his tired body. His deadly fever was beginning.

The sun was already drilling into Dick's skull. He should be hopping into the limosine at this very moment; he'd be on time for school even inspite of Alfred's "granny" driving. He scrunched his face and felt his eyemask adhered to his skin with sweat and fatigue. He hadn't slept all night and stealing a look at his mentor and father-figure, he had another one of those moments when he wondered how in the world Bruce could stay up for days on end without a drop of coffee.

"Joker was infected shortly after dinner time at the asylum. Which means that the NoiGon toxin's got a 12 hour headstart on us." Bruce said, catching Dick from nodding off. The teen sighed and yawned. "We need to do this quietly and quickly. Should the news of Joker's escape reach the public, all of Joker's enemies will be gunning for him, regardless of his hazordous disposition."

Dick fought the fuzz of sleep off as best he could.

"Ok, so we find Joker. What then? Will we just contain him until the poison takes its course or do you have a plan for that too?" Either way, he didn't have a problem with Joker meeting his Maker. The clown did a great job of embarrassing him and Batgirl while the Batman was injured.

Bruce felt anger burn and his grimace tighten.

"And if Joker dies? You're fine with that?" The man asked his ward. The teen looked back at him.

"Well, yeah." Dick returned. "I mean, Joker's got plenty of red in his record. Wouldn't it be for the best if... he, you know... _doesn't_ make it?"

"Criminal Joker may be but he's still a victim to Black Mask's plot. It's what we do, Robin... regardless of who we're saving." Bruce answered. "And the NoiGon toxin Black Mask used on him is a very, very painful way to die."

Dick winced and let out a defeted abet childish sigh.

"OK, _fine_. We'll do this the honorable way. But for the record, I hate this." Bruce flicked a toggle on the Batmobile's dash impatiently, deciding to not acknowledge Dick's griping.

Joker would show soon; he never managed to be silent for long. Patience was something Bruce never prayed for, though; he found that even without some divine intervention, life taught him the cruelty of waiting. For now, he parked the long black vehicle in the shadows of an abandoned apartment building and began the unglamorous and unexciting waiting game.

Basil Karlo watched as breakfast was set on the floor and slid towards him. He was in solitary confinement again, thanks to the Joker-induced tantrum he had during dinner last night. The actor looked at his meal of lumpy, flavorless oatmeal, toast and fruit with disgust; _how_ was he supposed to eat this without any eating utensil? Then his green eyes panned around the tiny padded room that he was religated to for at least another month.

He was SO sick of being here. Basil was so enraged and humiliated at being captured, he promised himself the next time he was free, he'd cause as much havoc as he could. He'd lay waste to streets of pretty downtown Gotham, knock over a few banks and capture any beautiful damsel he wanted. But most of all, he'd hunt Joker down and he'd kill him; he'd kill him _so_ good! He'd paint the clown's white face red with his warm blood and make sure that Joker would never smile again, even if that meant removing each of his crooked yellow teeth.

In the middle of his mental murder, the flap of the heavily enforced cell door lifted open with a squeak. Basil glanced up and met the eyes of an orderly. A _known_ crooked orderly among the inmates of Arkham.

"Forgot your spoon." The man muttered before flicking a key card through the shutter. Staring in disbelief at the piece of priceless plastic on the floor, Basil slowly approached it.

Picking it up, the tumblers of his cell were turned and the door opened. The crooked orderly stood in the doorway with a neutral, blank expression.

"The cameras are shut off. Courtesy of Black Mask." The man said, his eyes motioning to the key card. "In exchange for a small request."

Basil's eyes slanted.

"And what would that be?" The orderly's expressionless features never changed.

"To get your revenge on Joker." A homicidal, extraordinarily pleased smile split the red-head's face.

"With pleasurable prejudice." Basil was downright giddy as he grabbed the orderly in a muddy, enlarged hand and threw him into the empty cell. He appraised the man, snapping a mental picture before shutting and locking the door behind him.

Over a year and a half ago, Basil was supposedly "cured" of his shape-shifting abilities. But with so much residual Clayface serum still sloshed in his veins it wasn't hard to assume the form of the orderly he'd just attacked. Glancing at the blind cameras, Basil remembered Black Mask's gift. The key card, which reappeared around his neck, was his ticket to freedom and the annihilation of the harlequin.

Police Chief Ethan Bennett hated this feeling. The black, intense coffee was flying through his system, making him jittery but it had yet to reach his head. As he fumbled for his keys to lock his car door, he felt his world tilt strangely. Mind foggy but body pulsing with caffeine, Bennett felt little use to anyone let alone to match wits with someone like Black Mask. When he got word from Commissioner Ellen Yin about Black Mask's plot, he was jumping into uniform. Three cups of coffee later, he understood that he'd overdosed himself. Finally, after a great struggle with his keys, Ethan Bennett rushed into Gotham PD headquarters. He'd barely gotten into the lobby when his best leuitenant was at his side.

"Good morning sir." Leuitenant Murphy Mann greeted, gating beside his rushing superior.

"It's gonna be a long day Murphy." Ethan responded, glancing at his officer.

"Is it the Bat?" Mann questioned. Ethan gave only a nod.

"Yin will be in shortly. I need every section chief present or on speaker phone. I've sent out word to each jurisiticion. We have to work together to crack this." Running up the stairs, Ethan felt his heart race like a humming bird's wings. _Curse caffeine!_ "Yin will give the full debriefing but I will say this, Murphy: we've got no room for error."

Leuitenant Mann nodded.

"Understood, sir. Should I call my wife then?" As the door to his office came into view, Ethan gave a nod.

"You should. It will be a twelve hour day; dinner is gonna be take out." He responded.

* * *

"Metastasis? What in the world is that?" Joker glanced at a patient chart that he'd causally picked up as he walked from room to room. He'd wandered into the intensive care ward of the hospital he was taking over. Glancing at the man wrapped in white sheets, the clown followed the many tubes and lines feeding from various machines into the man's veins.

"W-Well... this gentleman has liver cancer. A-and it spred from cancerous cells in his pancreas, Dr. Joker. Metastasis means that his pancreas gave his liver cancer." A shaky, nervous voice came from behind him. Joker spun on his heel, giggling.

He'd decided to spare some of the nurses and medical interns so they could follow him around and "update" him on his "patients". Of course he also had them "dumb" down their medical terminology since he couldn't understand half of the seventeen letter words that they said. Perhaps he was taking this doctor business too far, but these people seemed all too happy that they weren't gassed.

"Liver cancer? Can't that be cured?" Joker easily ignored the stupidity of his question since he was genuinely curious. The interns exchanged wary glances with each other.

"I'm afraid not. His form of cancer is terminal." A nurse explained. Joker frowned.

"What? He's in a hospital! Doctors can cure anything! Don't you have some sort of medicine that will kill the cancer?" The staff shook their heads but said nothing. The Harlequin of Hate tapped his foot, folding his arms across his stethescope. "Then what's the point of hospitals? They should be _leveled_."

They noticably jumped and were quick to defuse Joker's unpredictable temper.

"Mr. Mathis here is just a special case. He drank too many beers and his insides got sick." An intern gestured to the terminally ill man in the bed. "But if we keep moving, there are other patients here that are getting better fast!"

The hospital staff ushered Joker to the next room. The Crime Clown enjoyed the attention and there was an odd sense of accomplishment from pretending to be a doctor. It brought back a similar feeling he had as the Laughing Bat. At least his fun wouldn't be interrupted for a while. Joker was crazy but he was smart. He made sure that no one would be able to make an out-going call from this hospital. As well as gassing security and most of the staff. He sent out a warning that if anyone so much as made a move to leave or call for help before "the doctor's visit" was up, he'd give them a permenent smile like his. What did he have planned after the doctor's visit? Joker wasn't too sure himself. The more he toured with his entourage of captive interns, the more he found that gassing this place was unnecessary; half of the people in this place were dead anyway.

"See Ms. Kroger here got a bump on the head in a car accident." Shown yet another person hard-wired into a machine, Joker carefully looked at the woman. "Her bump was big but she'll be able to go home in about two months. She's on her way to being well."

Joker blinked seeing the woman looking back at him. Her eyes moved but her face didn't do so much as twitch.

"She's on medication that won't let her move. It helps her heal." A nurse chirped. The thought made the harlequin shiver.

"She can't even move? She can't sneeze? Cough? Laugh?" He rattled off. At the deafening silence from the doctors, Joker guessed that she couldn't even enjoy a chuckle. He'd have to fix that.

Retrieving his stethescope, Joker brought it to the woman's face.

"I bet if you could laugh, you'd be out of here in half the time." A crazed smile broke his face, elated that he would soon make this woman laugh. Pressing a button on his stethescope, a small hiss of air cut the silence.

A small cloud of Joker gas laved over the woman's face. The clown watched in hopeful eagerness to see the effects of his poison. He was rewarded with small giggles bubbling up from her emotionless lips. The interns and nurses gasped in unison as Ms. Kroger broke out into laughter. Smiling with twisted pride, Joker saw the woman kick as her laughter became hysterics. The nurses flooded over the lady and it was at that moment he caught the shrill prolonged beep from one of the machines the woman was hooked up to. Shrugging, seeing that she was still in giggles and not in any pain that he could see, Joker carried on to the next "patient" on his "list".

"Come now, we musn't linger. I have more patients to see to before I go into surgery!" He cheered over his shoulder. A handful of interns and nurses followed as the rest stayed to stabalize Ms. Kroger.

One of the interns holding the kicking woman's legs looked up at his friends and coworkers.

"The freak thinks he's going into surgery?! We've got to DO something!" He hissed as Ms. Kroger's thrashing softened some. The nearest nurse blinked back tears of fear in her eyes as she filled a syringe of low-blood pressure medication.

"My cell phone is in the locker room. Someone needs to get to it before Joker hurts anyone else." She hurried. "We need Joker antidote! Most of the patients on this level will not survive a Joker gassing!"

"I'll get the phone and call for help. Keep Joker distracted." They had to keep Joker from gassing anyone else. He fit in this hospital as well as a needle in a balloon factory.

* * *

Review! LONG LIVE ROCK!


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